Untitled, For Now
by WritersAreNovelLovers
Summary: Empty. Unfeeling. As if she was kissed by a dementor. She lost Ron. She'll never hold him again. But what happens when a certain Maurader returns? And saves her? And is the only one that can revive the girl that is lost? Eventual HG SB
1. Chapter 1

**A.N. -** **Okie, so this is eventually HG/SB. But that's not very evident in these first few chapters. I debated on uploading because I planned on writing it all before I posted, that way, I wouldn't fell guilty if I wasn't in the mood for writing. Which is what has happened on my other story. I'm not in the mood for writing it. So it would be on hiatus. But this particular writing is flowing veryyy well. So, expect more soon. And review, let me know what you think. It's my first attempt at writing anything angsty, and I tried very hard to stay away from it being cheesy. I'm going to rate this T for language for now, but I may have a lemon much later on, and up this to M. So anyways, enough of my chatter, the story!**

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They haunted her day and night. The misery she was surrounded in. The grief she felt, but couldn't express. The days she would wake up and lie in silence, wondering if there was something she could've done.

The people she lost. The changes. Her hopes and dreams of a future, shattered.

The war had taken it's toll. The light side had been victorious, but that didn't matter. Hermione had lost Ron. All of her hopes and dreams. They were going to start a family. But now Ron was gone, and she was all alone.

Harry was an Auror, as he always planned to be. Ron had been his partner in crime. Until they had cornered Bellatrix Lestange. And she had murdered Ron.

Harry and Hermione had tried to move through the grief. Hermione threw herself into her job at the ministry. But it didn't help. Nightmares haunted her, she would see his face, hear his voice, feel his touch on her skin. But it was only her memories. Her memories.

That was all she had left these days.

"Hermione, everyone's here for the meeting if you'd like to come join us," yelled Harry from the end of the hallway in Grimmauld Place. Once Ron was gone, he invited Hermione to come stay at his house, assuming that living in their old flat might be difficult for her. He was right.

If Hermione had heard him, she made no response, but this didn't seem to be out of the norm, and Harry went about his business.

Hermione sat in the dark, in pajama pants and one of his old shirts. It didn't smell like him anymore. Nothing could bring him back anymore. The only time she could remember were in her nightmares. She would see him dead, and herself alone. He couldn't save her anymore.

She had gotten a muggle doctor to prescribe painkillers. Desperate times. The Dreamless Sleep potion didn't help anymore. She was immune to the relief it could offer.

None of the others knew, she would never tell them. They thought she was withdrawn, thinner. But they didn't worry. Hermione would be fine. She was the strong one. Hermione chuckled at this thought. Always the strong one. Always the smart one. None of that mattered when you were in the real world.

Hermione rolled over and buried her face in the pillow, and wished she could muffle a scream, show any form of emotion. She was silent. She couldn't. There was an emptiness. She was hollow. Unfeeling.

She wasn't a person anymore. In her mind, she was as a person kissed by a dementor. Soulless.

Hermione lifted her head up from the pillow and rolled over onto her back, and stared at the ceiling. Something had to give. She was going insane.

Who was she kidding? She was already insane.

Harry walked back up the stairs. Normally he would let Hermione wallow in her own pity. This time was different. He had made up his mind while he lay awake in the early hours of the morning. Hermione was not the only one who suffered from demons. They all hurt. It was still painful. But they had to live. Move on. Never forget. But move on just the same.

Hermione was still facing the ceiling when Harry walked in the room. She made no signs to show she recognized he was there. He went and sat down on the edge of the bed. Her face was expressionless, and for some reason, it made him want to cry. He had already lost one best friend, and from the looks of it, he was close to loosing the other one. His hand went to smooth Hermione's tangled curls from around her face, and she didn't even flinch when he touched her. No reaction at all.

He set his mouth in a grim line and thought about what he would have to do. Hermione was not that brave, charismatic girl anymore. She was at a loss. The floor of her world had caved in. She had planned on living with the man she loved for the rest of her life.

Harry wondered if he could ask Kingsley if he had any positions at the ministry open. Hermione had done excellent on her NEWTS, and she had been top of the class. Living here holed up in her room every waking moment wasn't good for her. She needed to be around other people, and a job would make her start thinking again. Hell, he thought to himself, maybe she would find some pleasure in something again. Merlin knows she needs something to be happy about.

"Hermione, Mrs. Weasley made dinner, and she said would do some... cruel things if I didn't come back downstairs with you. No matter what you said. So come on, I'm hungry, and Wingardium Leviosa is an option," said Harry with a smile.

Hermione's thoughts drifted. She remembered the Charms lesson where Ron had made her cry. She smiled and Harry thought he had managed to cheer her up some. But the smile quickly faded and Harry look at her quizzically.

Hermione's voice rasped, "I don't feel like it." Maybe he would leave her alone. She kept staring at the ceiling. Harry sat there, staring at her deliberately. Hermione gave in and looked over at him. He looked tired. His hair was sticking up like it usually did. His scar didn't stand out anymore. It had faded. He had changed out of his Auror robes and into jeans and an old sweater. He was staring at Hermione with pity in his eyes. Something inside of her roared. She didn't want to be pitied. She may not have been a person anymore, but she wasn't deserving of their pity. She wasn't that pathetic yet, was she?

With a sudden impulse, she sat up, startling Harry. She ran her fingers through her hair, and swung her legs off the edge of the bed, now sitting beside Harry. He looked at her, either with fear or amazement, she wasn't sure. She chuckled in her head when she realized he thought he wasn't going to be able to convince her to come to dinner. In a display that shocked them both, she leaned over, and put her head on his shoulder. He wrapped an arm around her back for a second, and then she sat up again, and moved his arm, standing up slowly. He hadn't realized how tiny she was now. How it looked as if he could break her by even touching her arm.

She gestured with her head towards the stairwell, and Harry stood up and walked beside her. He didn't even care that she was coming to dinner in her pajamas, as long as she was coming.

Mrs. Weasley was bustling around, setting out platters, and cauldrons of food and drinks. Ginny was setting out the silver-wear, weaving in and out of her mother and all of the other guests. Arthur Weasley was sitting at the head of the table, conversing with Remus Lupin and Bill Weasley. Fleur Delacour was sitting next to Nymphadora Tonks and giggling at something Tonks was telling her about. Mad-Eyed Moody was looking especially hard at the twins, who were whispering to each other. They all looked happy, and content. It made Hermione feel like she didn't belong. Her first reaction was to bolt, and run back to her room, but she resisted. There would only be more pity if she did that.

No one had noticed she and Harry had walked in, so Harry cleared his throat, and everyone looked up. Silence met Hermione's ears as everyone stared at her. She wanted to fidget, and bolt, and just get away from all the staring, but the old Hermione wouldn't let her. So she stood there, and after what seemed like an infinity of silence, but was really only about ten seconds, Mrs. Weasley's face lit up when she saw that Hermione had made an appearance.

"Hermione darling! You've decided to join us tonight. Come on, come on, that rights, over here by Ginny and I, we'll pull you up a chair. Ginny, go get Hermione a chair!" barked Mrs. Weasley, still smiling. Hermione made her way over to the table, and everyone was still looking at her. She could only imagine what they were thinking. Remus Lupin started telling Mr. Weasley about a witch that he had met at The Leaky Cauldron coincidentally, it turned out she had gone to school with him, and soon everyone else was talking, leaving Hermione extremely grateful.

Harry sat on one side of Hermione, and Tonks sat on the other. Hermione looked at the food on her plate. She supposed it look appetizing. It didn't matter, she wasn't hungry. It had no taste, she didn't feel the hunger. Or maybe she did and it was one of the only ways she could feel anymore. She couldn't think.

She saw Harry looking at her. She supposed he wondered why she wasn't eating. She took a bite, to make him stop staring. A look of relief washed over his face, and it brought a small happiness to her. She didn't know why anymore. Hermione noticed how close Ginny and Harry were sitting. She wondered what was going on between the two of them. She just hoped they were as happy as she and R- She gasped. Harry looked at her worriedly. There she went again, thinking about Ron like he was still alive, and still hers. He was gone. She had to remember that. The tears rolled down her face, uncontrollably. She barely heard Harry ask her what was wrong.

She couldn't sit around them anymore. She had to be alone. She shoved the plate away from her and pushed the chair back. She abruptly fled to her bedroom.

Harry was hot on her heels, however, and managed to get his foot in between the door and the door frame before she shut and locked it. He looked at her, wonderingly, searching her eyes for answers. Why had she fled? She couldn't give him answers. She silently walked towards the bed, and lay down, looking up at the ceiling. Harry sighed, wondering if anything was ever going to get through to her. She had to move on. He would call a meeting to the order, to see if anyone knew how to help her. Cause at this point, he didn't know what the hell he was supposed to do.


	2. Chapter 2

** A.N.- Okay, up to chapter 2. I'm having absolutely no problems keeping on writing this story, which is a first for me. I always get blocks. crosses fingers Sorry about not updating yesterday. I went shopping. Also, thank you to the people who reviewed. And all the people that are reading. Reviews are realllly cool though. Just saying. Okie, so more Hermione sadness. It's gonna get worse before it gets better though, just saying. But not for awhile. I'm going to draw this out as long as possible. :-) Expect none of the sexiness that is Sirius for the next few chapters, however. Okay, so I can think of nothing else to say, other than, I may go back and edit any mistakes that my beta and I find, because she has yet to read this. I cause I was anxious to see what you guys think. On to the story!**

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Minerva McGonagall made her way up to her ex-student's room. Harry had told her of how Hermione had been secluded, and withdrawn. She didn't like it, not one bit. So she made up her mind, she would find something useful for Hermione to do. And she had come up blank. What could one teach a woman in her early twenties that was grieving? It needed to be something therapeutic. Then her mind fell to a house elf's story of the young Miss Granger's escapades to try and set the house elves of Hogwarts free. What had she done, hadn't she sewn dresses and put them under rubbish so the elves would pick them up unknowingly? No, no, no, she had kitted hats. That was it! She would get Hermione knitting again. Knitting was supposed to be soothing. Now how could she convince her to start again? Ah, she would tell her of a young first year, who was... interested in elvish welfare. Or some other crock and bull story. That part didn't matter.

"Miss Granger, kindly unlock the door. It's Professor McGonagall. I wish to speak with you," she said, in a quiet tone. However, she heard no response, so she muttered a spell to unlock the door, and let herself in. Hermione was in the same position Harry had left her in. She was on the bed, facing up. Her eyes were closed, however, but she didn't seem to be asleep. McGonagall tried to hold back tears when she saw the state Miss Granger was in. Tinier than she had been as a first year, her hair was tangled, and long, and she was in a man's t-shirt and a soft pair of pants. They had to help her, and McGonagall was going to set her plan in action. She hoped it would be enough.

Hermione thought of Ron's quidditch skills, and how she had Confounded the boy who might have beaten him at tryouts. And then her mind drifted to that blasted song the scum Malfoy had come up with. And how he'd had to eat his words after Ron won the game when she and Harry were in the Forbidden Forest. If only she had seen him play. If only she could see him play. Just one last time.

She needed a pain pill. She needed to forget. She couldn't live with thinking about him anymore. She didn't want to remember. She opened her eyes and was about to reach for that pretty little orange bottle when she saw her old Transfiguration professor watching her, with a sad look in her eyes. Damn people and their pity! She tried to stop from being enraged, but it was no use. So much for unfeeling.

The old woman noticed Hermione didn't have her eyes closed anymore, and any look of sadness, or pity she might have had dissapeared. A stern look she normally reserved for misbehaving students was put into action. Hermione faced the ceiling, eyes opened this time. She didn't even spare another glance in her old teacher's direction.

"Miss Granger, you were the one who started SPELL, or something like that in your years at Hogwarts, were you not? Something about setting house elves free..."

Hermione thought about the ridiculous club SPEW she had started. She would never admit to anyone that it was ridiculous, but now that she thought about it... House elves should be treated better, but Hermione thought about all the hats she had made...

"As I was saying, one of our younger students, has shown interest in this matter, and I was wondering if you would like to help her with her hat making efforts? Someone put the ridiculous notion in her head that if the house elves picked up hats and scarves from under rubbish, they would be free..."

Hermione had no interest in doing anything of the sort. She was all for the poor house elves receiving better treatment, but she didn't care. Not now. It was stupid. Ron thought it was stupid. Not gonna happen... She closed her eyes again, and waited for her old teacher to leave so she could go ahead and take a painkiller.

McGonagall noticed that Hermione's eyes had closed and she wasn't listening anymore. She sighed. Poor girl. If helping house elves didn't interest her...

"Look, Miss Granger, I know you're grieving, but you can't stay here all day. I refuse to let you deteriorate. Madame Pince was telling was me of a massive reorganization of the library she was planning on doing in a few weeks, and I'm sure she would love your help. Now, you can lie here all you want, but I expect to see you at Hogwarts in a week and a half's time. Good day, Miss Granger," said the Transfiguration teacher. She left the room without another word.

Hermione sat thinking. Did everyone think she was deteriorating? Was she that scary? She carefully lifted herself off the bed and went to the mirror hanging on the wall over her dresser. The reflection didn't look any different to her. She saw the bushy haired girl. Still scrawny. Any woman's curves she might have acquired had dissapeared when she stopped eating. Food was tasteless.

So this is what she had come to. Had she intended to be this? Was it normal to feel so much hurt you were numb? Did it not kill her to see what she had become whenever she caught a glimpse?

Whenever she was with Ron, he had always made her feel loved. He had known her since she had been a gawky eleven year old. Looks didn't matter. He was a jerk sometimes, but he always came through for her in the end. Except for the one last time. Hermione was still looking in the mirror. Could she still cry? She had managed it before, but it was never when she wanted to. Only when she couldn't control it.

Not one tear fell down her cheek. No matter how much she wished it. A dry sob racked her body. She felt like ripping her hair out.

Hermione stumbled to the bathroom, all thoughts of a pain pill forgotten. She wanted a shower. Hot water. Cleanliness. She couldn't remember the last time she enjoyed a bath. It was always taken for granted in the past.

Her hands slowly turned on the shower, and she stripped herself of all her clothes, slowly stepping in. She let the warm water cascade down her back, enjoying the heat. She had missed the warmth of another human being.

Hermione washed her hair, and her body, savoring how nice it felt to be clean. After turning the shower off, she pulled back the shower curtain, and reached for a towel hanging on the rack. She dried herself off and wrapped herself in the towel carefully. Her wand was lying on the counter, and she reached for it, blowing cool air on the mirror to remove the steam. She cautiously looked up, observing her reflection. A shower had done her good, she supposed.

Her thoughts fell to all the beauty charms she would normally perform, and she decided to forgo those for once. She applied moisturizer muggle style, and left her hair alone.

Hermione walked back into her bedroom, having changed into a clean pair of blue jeans, and another of Ron's old t-shirts. She was shocked to see Harry sitting in a chair beside her bed looking at the picture of Hermione, Ron, and himself. He seemed to be lost in memories, and his eyes held the ghosts of tears. Hermione knew there wasn't anyone else who could understand her as well as Harry could right now. But she wasn't ready to talk. She still hurt too much.

She walked over and sat beside him. He didn't look startled.

"You know, if there's one thing I miss the most, it's having my best mate around. He is- ...it's hard to talk about him like he's not here anymore, because it doesn't seem possible that he could be, you know? I would give all the gold in my Gringotts vault for him to be back here with us. To be happy living with you. To keep kicking Death Eater ass with me. I just miss him. A lot," said Harry.

Hermione tried not to freeze up at the onslaught of feeling that poured forward. She missed him too. She missed his hands, that would soothe hers, and cup her face ever so gently. She missed the way she would make a sarcastic remark and it would take him ages to understand. How his chest felt when she would lay her head against.

It was the small things she missed.

Hermione put her arms around Harry's shoulders. She supposed he hurt as much as she did. He just had a different way of showing it. And it didn't affect him in as many ways as it did her.

Harry leaned his head back and sighed. "I... miss you too Hermione. I don't feel like I have you here with me anymore. I've found Ginny, but that's beside the point. I miss the old you," and with that, he stood up, shrugging off Hermione's arms.

He looked down at her from where he was standing. His face was unreadable. He opened his mouth to speak. "I don't expect you at dinner. Remus gave me a book he thought you might be interested in. I left it on your nightstand." Harry left the room, shutting the door behind him.

Hermione still sat, lost in her own thoughts. Harry was angry with her. He missed her. He wanted the old her back. He hurt just as much as she did. Her head was trying to comprehend all these thoughts.

What could she do about any of it? She didn't want to be the way she was. But she still hurt so much...

She remembered reading once that only time heals a loss. Maybe that was true. Maybe she needed to get away from all these familiar places. Hogwarts was just as familiar, but maybe if she could revisit her younger self, she might find some peace. Maybe she should ask McGonagall if the offer was serious.

That was a lot of maybes'.

She could consider it. She would consider it. But not right now. Not this soon. The idea had seemed ridiculous a couple of hours earlier. Her mind needed to absorb it all.

Her old werewolf professor had given her a book that he hoped she would be interested in. Hermione's eyes had been glued. It had been a long period since she had picked up a book. It wasn't really the subject that interested her, but the thrill of flipping through pages, and looking at the ink, spelling out words and making the story.

She read for a long time. Her eyes drooped after awhile, and she fell asleep on top of the covers, with the lamp on. Harry came in to talk to her later that night, but was surprised when he found her asleep with a book in her hands. It made him think of the old Hermione.

He wondered if he would ever get her back.

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**Now go review!**


	3. Chapter 3

**A.N. - So, I know this is beyond short. And I haven't updated in a good bit. For me anyways. I started a new school, and I'm trying to get used to that, and it's alot more school work, so I'm trying to prioritze. And not procrastinate. So anyways, it's starting to get a bit more interesting. I have this completely planned out, so I know which parts I'm going to be writing next. Which is good. Cause these next parts should be very interesting. :-D**

**Enjoy!**

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Hermione watched the coffee drip slowly into the pot. Normally she didn't do caffeine, but her recent rediscovery of books had led her to needing to stay up all night. Which required the caffeine. Thus, here she was. Sitting here, waiting for her coffee to be done. 

Slowly her eyes drifted out of focus, and her thoughts overwhelmed her, like they normally did. She could barely hear Ginny's giggles and Harry's chuckles from the dining room.

Harry.

She was sorry she couldn't comfort him more. She just hurt so much still. But he hurt too. It was just so hard. Moving on seemed like the only thing to do, and the worst thing to do.

She just felt so damn guilty.

The coffee pot beeped at Hermione and she methodically started to pour herself a cup. There was a book about a handsome ancient Egyptian wizard that was calling her name.

Warm water, silky bubbles, and the scent of vanilla candles overrode all her senses for awhile.

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Hermione had long since finished her book, and her bath. But she didn't want to go to bed. The nightmares tortured her. She considered going and getting herself another cup of coffee, but she didn't want to wake Harry up. Pulling open her bedside drawer, she took out that orange bottle and let it roll on her palm. What could it hurt? She popped three into her mouth and swallowed them dry. She lay down on her back and stared at the ceiling until she didn't have to think anymore.

Later, her eyes drifted open lazily. She was still in bed. Someone had put a cover over her, and the light had been switched of. She wrinkled her nose. What happened to the locking spell she put on the door? Hadn't she put a charm on the door? In her haze had she forgotten? Just as she was starting to pull the covers off of herself, the door handle turned. She quickly shut her eyes again. Better to feign sleep than to engage in conversation with someone who only had pity for her.

Whoever it was stepped quietly towards her bed. They sighed. It sounded a lot like Ginny.

Hermione wished she would leave. But nothing she ever wished for came true. If it did, her life wouldn't be quite as fucked up.

"I wish you would come down here with me sometime. We haven't gotten to talk in awhile. Everyone misses you. And I know you aren't asleep."

Hermione wished the younger girl was less like her mother.

Ginny had already backed out of the room, taking the hint that Hermione wanted to be left alone.

She pulled the covers up over her head, and just closed her eyes.

She was never going to be able to fall back asleep now.

Her hand wanted to drift towards the painkiller bottle, but she'd had enough of those for one day. She kicked the overs off, and sat up.

Maybe she would try and act normal today.

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His body ached. His mouth was full of cotton. His body would not respond to any commands he gave it. He thrashed violently. He screamed. Nothing happened. Suddenly, he was able to crack both his eyes open. Light filled his vision. 

He quickly squeezed them shut, wincing at the pain caused by opening them. After a few moments recovering, he attempted it again. Slowly. The light still hurt, but not as badly. As more seconds passed, he was able to make out the room around him. It looked like...

No. He couldn't be here. This looked like the Room of Requirement. How had he gone from...

Wait. Where had he come from?

He attempted to wiggle his fingers. They did what he told them to. Thank God. Then he tried his toes. They worked too.

He sat up gingerly, wincing at how sore his muscles were. This was definitely the Room of Requirement. But how had he gotten here? He remembered Grimmauld Place. And fixing himself a butterbeer. And hearing from Snape that Voldemort had lured Harry to the Department of Mysteries...

What?!? He jumped up quickly, regretting his decision moments later. He rubbed his thighs, trying to understand why they hurt so much. He hadn't done anything strenuous lately. Had he? His memory seemed very fuzzy. He carefully took a fews steps towards the door, and when he found his legs hurt less and less with each step, took up a faster pace. He threw open the door, and when the familiar sight of Hogwarts met his vision, he sighed with relief. Maybe he would finally figure out what was going on.

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**Now go review. Cause you guys just rock like that. And I want feedback on where you think this is going. And any suggestions/constructive criticism. Thanks.**


	4. Chapter 4

**A.N. - Okay, so it's been ages, I know. A really longggg time ago. But I've had most of this written for ahwhile. I got a nice review that prompted me to finish it up and post it, so here you go. I started a new school and the workload is... a lot. It's an IB school, for those of you feel like going and looking it up. Well, I have a huge Bio test I need to finish studying for, and some Algebra... Leave me nice reviews. Make me want to update. :-D I'm looking forward to the Hermione Sirius romance coming up. My all time favorite pairing. Ever. Now go enjoy.**

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A dark headed boy sat in a chair in the Headmaster's office at Hogwarts. It was the summertime, and the sun shone in brightly from one window. He stretched lazily, and leaned his chair back on two of the legs.

It fell over.

Quickly recovering, he stood up, a bashful look on his face. He swiftly looked around to make sure no one had seen his mishap with the chair. Several portraits were snickering, and the boy sent a glare in their direction.

The door to the office swung open suddenly, and the boy looked up, startled, flashing bright green eyes.

Minerva McGonagall stood in the doorway with her face lit up. Her hair looked windblown, which was unusual, and her normally perfectly pressed robes were wrinkled. The grin on her face was infectious, and she looked at the boy with a kind expression.

"Mr. Potter. Thank you for answering my owl quickly. I wanted to talk to you about Ms. Granger." A somber look replaced the exuberant one she had worn moments before. Her eyes lowered, and frown lines appeared around her mouth.

"I went to visit her earlier, at your request. You did not do her state of depression justice, she has withered away to nothing. She showed no emotion the whole time I was with her. Absolutely none! When I mentioned helping Madame Pince in the library, she just stared at me with those blank eyes of hers. I didn't know what else to do! And then out of the blue this morning, Irma mentioned getting an owl from Ms. Granger about coming to help her later this week, and I was speechless! Has she told you anything about this?" she finished with a flourish.

Harry's eyes widened. "She did what?" He looked more than a little shocked. Hermione hadn't even said anything to him at all. She had been in her room except for when she had come downstairs to get herself something from the kitchen...

All of a sudden, the door to the headmistress's office was flung open.

"Dumbledore, what the hell is going on?" said a very agitated Sirius Black. His tattered black robes fluttered, and his dark brown hair fell elegantly in his face. He looked thin, with his cheekbones prominent. He stood panting, as if he had been running a marathon.

Bright green eyes met his tired blue-gray ones.

"Sirius?"

Harry looked as if he had seen a ghost. His face turned an interesting shade of gray, and his mouth hung open.

Sirius stared at the boy, who looked quite different from the last time he had seen him. He was no longer a boy anymore. But what was going on? He couldn't remember anything...

Harry ran towards his godfather, and engulfed him in a hug. His eyes were misty and he had a slightly disbelieving expression on his face. Sirius pulled back after a moment, and looked at Harry with a curious gaze.

"What are you doing here? Where's Dumbledore?" Sirius asked, panic rising in his voice. McGonagall and Harry were still staring at him, unbelieving.

"You don't remember what happened? How did you get back from the veil?"

Sirius looked like a wounded puppy dog. "What are you on about? Where's Dumbledore? What the hell is going on? Tell me, dammit!"

"Mr. Black, you fell through the veil in the Department of Mysteries five years ago. Dumbledore was killed by Severus in Harry's sixth year. I am now the headmistress." said McGonagall without any emotion.

Sirius sank to his knees in both anger and grief. Angry that he had lost another five years of his life he could never get back. Angry that Dumbledore had been killed by that bastard. Grief for the years of his godson's life he had not been there to witness. His breathing was heavy and ragged, all the things he had just heard sinking in. Some of his last few moments coming back to him, his heat shot up.

"If I fell through the veil, how am I back?"

Harry's voice was choked. "I don't know."

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Hermione paced back and forth in her room. She had quit her job at the ministry months ago. She didn't hang out with any of her adult friends.

Why the hell had she even considered going back to Hogwarts?

She flung herself down on the bed, frustrated. Her mind raced, and her head was spinning. There were moments when she almost felt like things were going to get better. But there were those times when she thought nothing could ever get better. She would never be able to move on. It had been a good moment when she thought she could handle reentering the world.

She changed her mind.

She couldn't do it.

Not without him. She needed him.

Her head shot up in the air. When the hell had she ever needed a man to be able to do something? She was always independent. Always. Why had things changed?

She was going to Hogwarts.

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Harry and Sirius walked slowly towards the door of Grimmauld Place. Harry had insisted they take the muggle subway once they had flooed to the Ministry. Something about not wearing out Sirius's powers since he had just returned into the magical world.

Needless to say, Sirius was not happy with this situation. His hands itched for his wand, anxious to be in control of his own magic. Soon enough, however, they arrived, and Sirius had never beheld such a wonderful, yet haunting sight. All of his troubled past lay right before his eyes, but he could not hold it in contempt anymore. Those years were long passed, and it was time to move forward. Maybe a small cabin in the Swiss Alps?

Harry walked towards the doorway, anxious to let everyone see for themselves the miracle that was his godfather. He didn't have a clue how he was back, and to be honest, it didn't matter. Sirius was here, and he could live his life once again. Kingsley had ordered him a free man. He could get a job now, could walk outside without the fear of being caught. Things were looking up.

Not one thought of Hermione had entered his brain since he had seen Sirius.

They calmly walked up the front steps, opening the door, careful to be under the cover of night and making sure no muggles were about. Harry had not filled Sirius in, so he was a little hesitant of what to think, who would be living there. He did not even know of the outcome of the war. Making assumptions, however, Harry seemed changed. He did not have such a weight on his shoulders. But there were lines in his face that had not been there before. Sirius wondered what had gone on during his time in the veil.

Harry had no sooner than walked in the kitchen with Sirius when he was met by a very disgruntled looking Hermione. Her hair was loose and wild, a tangled lion's mane, limp and dull. She had on a pair of tattered robes and looked like she was trying to make coffee. As usual. Harry opened his mouth to get her attention when her raspy voice startled him.

"I have decided to spend a week at Hogwarts," she said, as if conversationally. Harry stared at her, bewildered. She had not even turned around or let out a sign that she knew he was in the room. And he rarely even saw her out of her room, much less in robes, or even where she would speak.

The coffee pot beeped at her, and she grabbed the pot and poured it into her mug. As she turned around, her brown eyes collided with gray, and she took a step back towards the counter.

"Sirius?"

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